There has been so much loss. My wife left me. I lost my church, I lost my apartment, I lost two cars, I lost $1200, I lost my grandmother, I lost my grandfather, I’ve now lost a dearly loved great aunt, and a cousin. I sometimes feel as though Psalm 73.13 has come to light: “All in vain have I kept my heart clean and washed my hands in innocence.”

It has been a struggle. I have nearly lost my sanity, my salvation, and myself. I have been cross, and crass, and lustful, and slothful, and angry, and jealous, and remorseful, and depressed, and jaded, and deject, and disdainful, and impatient, and anxious.

I am here in Seminole. My cousin, Terry, has lost his Mother and Sister, my uncle Sid his wife and daughter, within 5 days of each other. How can one possibly begin to cope with that? It is a sorrow and tragedy of coldest manner. To see emotions raw in the face of kin akin to wounds not fully healed in me is…I’m not sure I know how to process all the complexities at this moment.

I pray, I pray ever so fervently, that they find peace and solace. That people around them may be a bottomless well of encouragement and empathy; that the Spirit would not cease to shower them with unfathomable calm and hope.

It is in the day to day. It is how we all must. We can, and should, have future plans and look ahead, but not at the cost of the day to day. The present is non-refundable and unexchangable. Just as the past culminates in the present, the summation of the present will be the future. If that amounts to, “live to fight another day”, then live. Live, and struggle, and fight to snatch victory from the iron drip of despair.

How does one carry on in the face of such loss? How does my father and aunt and uncle carry on in the wake of losing both parents within five weeks of each other, after watching their father’s mind slowly fade? How will my cousins, and uncle, carry on losing Nel and Stacy within the same week? How have I continued these past two years in the wake of overwhelming loss?

God. Only God. “He knows our frame, he remembers that we are dust.” “Precious in the eyes of the Lord are the deaths of His saints.” Jesus wept at Lazarus’ tomb.

“I don’t know about tomorrow; it may bring me poverty. But the one who feeds the sparrow, is the one who stands by me. And the path that is my portion may be through the fire or flood; but his presence goes before me and I’m covered by his blood. Many things about tomorrow I don’t seem to understand, but I know who holds tomorrow and I know who holds my hand.”

It is difficult to explain the depression. It is not unwelcome; contrarily, it is cathartic. The intensity is addictive, and so few feelings of late beset me, of any manner or intensity, that the melancholy is heartily welcome. I am quite sure this state is diagnosible as manic depression, bipolar, or some such; yet, I am not so quick to address the issue, as the state is a euphoric release from the apathy, frustration, and callousness which have haunted me for nigh two years.

This is not to say I desire my situation to continue its decline. I should like few things more than to return to a stable income, surround myself with friends of like faith, and find a woman in whom to confide. But at present, the solace is to be found in silence, sadness, and tragic nostalgia.

Though, like any addiction, there is danger in morose musings. It is a tree branch, heavy laden with snow. The weight strains the branch ’til either the bough breaks, or the snow is shed in a cascade of white. The danger in mounting snow lies in the limberness of the branch, for each successive snowfall weakens the integrity of the tree.